


Your Way

by angelboygabriel



Series: Everything In Front Of My Eyes [1]
Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Mario Kart and Make Out, Sickening Fluff, Tickling, interruptions, not-so distant future fic, sander v. badly timed phone calls, surprise OG cameo, t rating veering hard towards m, why netflix and chill when you can:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21757702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelboygabriel/pseuds/angelboygabriel
Summary: It’s date night, which means a heated Mario Kart competition, and Sander does NOT take losing lightly.
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Series: Everything In Front Of My Eyes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570525
Comments: 13
Kudos: 219
Collections: Skam Belgium (Wtfock) ▶ Sander Driesen / Robbe Ijzermans





	Your Way

**Author's Note:**

> this is one of the worst hell week sessions ive ever experienced why can’t they just be gay and listen to bowie together

Zondag 20:56

15 April 2020

  
  


The Mario Kart theme song speeds up as Robbe and Sander scream in unison.

“ _Fuck_ , get out of the fucking way, Sander, I am not gonna get second place just for you to get first!”

“You’re slow! You can’t pass me! It’s too late!” Sander yells back, and they both fall into nonsensical panicked noises as lightning strikes their characters. They both leap up and lean hard towards the TV as they mash their Wii chuks. 

“No, no, we can’t let any computers pass us! No, don’t let artificial fucking intelligence win! Move, move, move!” Robbe shouts, closing in on Sander who jumps up and down for good measure and whizzes past the last set of item boxes. Robbe is on his tail, but then the finish line appears and their screaming takes a new hysterical tone.

“I’m going to win!” Sander all but shrieks, but then he notices Robbe’s red shell and it truly does become a shriek.

“Don’t do it!” he begs, “Baby, no, please, I’ll buy you croissants, I’ll suck your dick, I’ll do whatever, DON’T-“

Robbe fires the shell and it hits him, painfully close to the finish line, as Robbe speeds past him and secures his victory, leaving Sander to scream in pain as a handful of computers pass him and he finishes in fifth.

“YES! I beat you!” Robbe shouts in his face while Sander throws his controller on the couch. “Oh yeah, Robbe IJzermans, Mario Kart _king_! Now you have to say it! I won, you have to say that I am the ultimate champion!” Robbe says smugly before he wraps his arms around Sander, who stands stiffly and pretends to look angrily at the ceiling.

“I guess you’re okay at Mario Kart,” he grumbles, and Robbe gasps at him in mock hurt before he steps back.

“Say it!” he demands. “Say I’m the king!” he giggles as he reaches for Sander again, but Sander tries to bat him away and then they’re grappling with each other and laughing loudly.

“I will never admit defeat!” Sander cries out before Robbe tackles him to the couch, straddling his waist before he starts trying to tickle Sander. They’re both already laughing hard enough that there are tears in their eyes, and Sander’s stomach hurts from it.

“Say it!” Robbe shouts again as Sander writhes and laughs beneath him, wheezing and failing to slow Robbe’s hands with the weak grip he gets on his wrists.

“Fine! You’re the king of Mario Kart and I am your loyal subject!” Sander relents, unable to hold out any longer. Robbe is smiling so widely that Sander wonders if his face might break, but then he’s bending down and he’s kissing Sander and still laughing and all Sander can think about is how in love he is.

At first, the laughing keeps them from kissing very hard, but soon Robbe tightens his hands in Sander’s hair and the laughter turns into sharp gasps and short breaths. Sander grabs Robbe’s face and kisses him with this fierce expression as he feels Robbe start to get hard against him and lick into his mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” Robbe mumbles, and really, Sander’s never getting over the way it makes him feel to be called ‘baby’ like _that_.

Sander slides his hands down Robbe’s back to grab his ass and pull him hard against him, relishing in the squeaky “hei!” it gets from Robbe.

Sander thinks he’s gotten the high ground here, but then Robbe sits up with a smirk on his face and Sander’s hands automatically move to grip his thighs. Robbe’s fingers flit across the hem of his pants, the sliver of skin on Sander he’s revealed teasingly. Sander bites his lip as his eyes slip shut, body tense with anticipation, but then Robbe’s fingers are gone and he opens his eyes back up to see him pressing the heel of his palm against the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Holy fuck,” Sander breathes, and Robbe nods before he plants one hand in the center of Sander’s chest and tangles his other one with the hand on his right thigh. Then, he starts to move his hips in these smooth, rippling motions and Sander’s brain shorts out because he realizes this must be exactly how he would move if he rode him.

Sander’s phone pings on the armrest of the couch, but they staunchly ignore it as their breathing picks up its pace and Sander sets his feet against the cushions of the couch so he can push up to meet Robbe’s movements. Robbe ducks down and starts to kiss his neck, a hand sliding up his shirt, and Sander knows with immense satisfaction exactly where this is going.

Sander’s phone pings again, and this time, Robbe groans against his skin in annoyance before he grabs Sander’s jaw and tilts his head into a searing kiss.

Then, Sander’s phone begins to ring, and Robbe looks up with the most murderous expression that Sander has ever seen and he snatches the phone up to squint at the contact. A picture of a beaming platinum blonde girl who appears somewhat similar to Sander looks back at him. 

“Who is it?” Sander asks, and Robbe flips the phone so he can see the screen. Recognition flashes across his face and he groans before taking the phone from Robbe’s hand.

“Fuck, it’s my cousin. She’ll kill me if I don’t answer,” Sander says, scrubbing a hand across his face.

“Don’t answer,” Robbe pleads, but Sander just sighs and accepts the call. Robbe flops down on his chest, mood killed.

“ _Hallo_? Yes, hi. What do you want? Why couldn’t you just text me?.. Oh my God, sorry I don’t answer in two seconds flat, I’m not your boyfriend. I’m a little busy right now, actually, so can you- what?”

Sander starts to talk rapidly in a language that Robbe vaguely recognizes to be something Scandinavian, and he gives an exasperated laugh after a moment before diving back into Dutch.

“ _Nei_ , Vilde, I don’t care. I’ll ask him- Okay. Yeah. Ciao.”

Sander hangs up and tosses his phone to the floor with a roll of his eyes. Robbe raises his eyebrows, expecting an explanation.

“Do you remember how I said I’m visiting family in Oslo next month? Yeah, that was my cousin, Vilde- you remember I’ve mentioned her, the really sweet therapist, she’s the one who helped me with my bipolar at first- she just wanted to sort out some details of my visit at a horrifically annoying time. She’s so bad at timing, but I love her so it’s alright. She wanted to know if you’d like to come with me, since there’s more space at her apartment now.”

Robbe positively beams at him, looking thrilled. “Um, absolutely I’d like to come!” he answers excitedly, and Sander can’t help but smile back.

Sander wraps his arms around Robbe tightly. “You’re gonna love it,” he says, and Robbe nods his head

“Of course I will, because I’ll be with you,” he replies sweetly, and Sander kisses the top of his head before holding him even tighter, Robbe’s arms coming up to circle around his neck and nestle under his chin.

They lapse into peaceful silence and drift off, entwined together and happy.


End file.
